Page 49 of Heart of the High King
“Whatever you want. I just want to reiterate that I’m always happy to pass along messages.”
“Thanks so much, enjoy your stay. I’ll see you guys at dinner,” Aleksander said and walked out of the room. Needing a moment to settle himself, he pushed away the ever-present anger at being dumped by his other half. In a million years he couldn’t imagine that the moment Rafferty had walked off his land that he’d simply decided to pretend they’d never met.
∞∞∞
“Stand the fuck back up,” Sullivan ordered. Rafferty had just slipped and was lying in a pile of his shit, blood, and piss. A bucket of cold water was flung over him, and he shivered as his palms scraped across the floor, looking for purchase so he could get up.
“It fucking smells horrid in here,” Charlton yelled, lifting yet another plastic tub.
A thick branch nailed Rafferty in the groin as he struggled to get to his feet. “Move faster, Paunchy,” Sullivan demanded.
“How is he still so fucking fat?” Charlton demanded.
Rafferty glared and used the wall at his back to brace himself as he got up on shaky legs. They’d taken to leaving him with plenty of food in the hopes of trying to speed up his healing. The jury was still out on whether it was effective, but Rafferty ate up every morsel, determined to keep whatever strength he had left. Without day or night, it was impossible to know how much time had passed since he’d first woken up in the cave, but he had the sinking suspicion he would be shocked to know the date.
Two additional buckets of icy water were thrown at him as they tried to get rid of the pervasive smell of Rafferty’s waste and some of the lesions on his body that had started to fester with infection. His dragon was long gone, and he was barely more than human. The constant dirt around him made it impossible to keep his wounds clean, and the torture he endured every couple of days meant he was in a constant state of poor health. His mind, however, was locked on a singular goal, and that was to find a way back to D’Vaire. To somehow escape, so he could find himself in Aleksander’s arms, where he belonged. It was only Aleksander that kept him going. Rafferty doubted he would still be alive were it not for the wonderful man that had stolen his heart.
Charlton laughed while Rafferty trembled in the cool, dank air of the cave. “Look at all the fine scars we’ve given you.”
Reassuring himself that it wouldn’t matter to the druids who’d heal him at the hospital, Rafferty did as instructed. Although he’d had the chance to heal somewhat since Sullivan visited him, there were indeed white lines over his thighs and stomach where his brother had whipped him.
“Here, shovel up your shit and put it in the bucket. I’m not going to have my fun ruined because you’ve decided to live like a pig,” Sullivan said.
Rafferty managed to grab the handle and do what he was told. His chains didn’t have much slack, so it wasn’t an easy task, especially with the two assholes kicking him and hurling insults at him. Not bothering to figure out what was excrement and what was dirt, Rafferty just filled the two buckets as best he could.
“We’re going to have to carry the boy’s shit out of here,” Charlton complained.
“Don’t worry, he’s going to pay for making us take on that little task,” Sullivan assured his father. After stomping over to Rafferty, he yanked the shovel from him and used the flat of it to nail him across the back. It shot a fiery pain down Rafferty’s legs, but he’d long ago learned to stifle his cries of distress. The last thing he wanted to do was add to the pleasure Sullivan and Charlton took at his pain.
“What did you have in mind?” Charlton asked.
Sullivan handed Charlton the shovel and pulled a lighter from his pocket. “We haven’t played with burns yet.”
“Hand me a lighter.”
“I only brought the one.”
“Idiot,” Charlton grumbled; then his grip shifted on the shovel and he used the handle to nail Rafferty in the midsection, knocking him to the ground. “I suppose this will do.”
Clenching his jaw, Rafferty’s eyes might have leaked tears, but he never let out even a whimper as his brother used the lighter to burn the flesh of his hips. There were lesions there that had never healed, and Rafferty tried to close his senses off to not only the sizzling sound of his scabs and blood but to the smell of his torched skin. His boxer shorts were remnants hanging over his privates and ass only because of the portions embedded into his large lacerations, which gave Sullivan plenty of room to do his evil. The agony was nearly unbearable, but Rafferty had an escape. It was the memory of how Aleksander made him feel when they were together that allowed him to endure.
“Would you look at that? It’s cauterizing those wounds,” Charlton exclaimed, walking to where Sullivan was crouched next to Rafferty and slapping his shoulder. “Well done. Keep it up, and we can give him a fair beating.”
“I was simply hoping to have some new way to hurt him, but you’re right,” Sullivan said in an excited tone while he continued to use the lighter to ignite scorching new pain through Rafferty. Every cell in his body screamed to move and get away, but he’d learned the hard way that it only made things worse to fight. The hatred for these two men he’d thought loved him grew whenever they came into the cave, and this day was no exception. His fixation on that and Aleksander helped him escape his horrific reality.
The two sadistic men chatted about mundane things as Rafferty’s muscles vibrated with the need to be free of Sullivan’s flame, but finally his brother grew bored of his new game. Rafferty was dizzy and nauseous with the torture he suffered through, and his lashes fell closed while he focused on taking deep breaths. That was why he never saw the blow from his father, but the sound of his leg bone snapping was loud enough that it was impossible to miss. Unconsciously curling to the side as his shin went numb, the metal slammed into his other ankle, and Rafferty was too lost in himself to know if it was broken too.
“Now I’ve given you a reason to sit in your own shit,” Charlton taunted. Rafferty never heard them leave, and when he finally was able to open his eyes again, he wondered just how much time he had left. It might not seem possible, but he had to fight. Somehow, he had to find the will to stay determined enough to survive, even if his dragon had lacked the same strength.
